


"WetWorks"

by MercuryHomophony



Series: To Date A Cervitaur [10]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Mentions of potential gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-24 01:25:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14345055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercuryHomophony/pseuds/MercuryHomophony
Summary: Dipper Pines just wants to read his book without having his Grunkle assure him that he'll help hide the body.(There is no body, either, which makes this weirder)





	"WetWorks"

Dipper was minding his own business that day. No one needed his help out in the woods, no one was asking for his help around the shack, he wasn't scheduled to work that day, and all-in-all, it was just a lovely winter afternoon. Just him, a recreational book (and yes, he had to specify, since 90% of his reading was done for research rather than pleasure), and a cup of hot chocolate. He sipped at it cautiously, wincing as it burned the tip of his tongue. Still too hot. He held it a moment longer, savoring the rich smell of chocolate, wafting up in steaming plumes. He took a deep sniff, holding it for a short time, before letting it out in a deep, relaxed sigh. The surface of the cocoa rippled, the translucent veil of steam dissipating under his breath, a short break in the wonderful peace of the moment.

Which was broken when the door was knocked open.

He counted himself fortunate that he hadn't dropped the cocoa on himself - that would have been more than painful - but he still froze up, ears perked and alert, eyes wide. The old wooden door hung wearily on its hinges, as if it, too, was tired of this bull.

From outside the door came a sheepish "Whoops," before Grunkle Stan was poking his head through, yellow eyes aglow, looking... perturbed. His gaze cast over the room, finally landing on the cervitaur, who had started to relax again, sending a quizzical look back at his gargoyle uncle. Stan's face became grave.

"Dipper. I need to talk to you."

\--

"You know, if you're ever in any trouble, you can come to me, right?" A few minutes later, Stan was sitting behind his desk, claws folded together, looking an alarming combination of concerned, sincere, and open... like this was more of an intervention than anything else. Dipper fought the urge to squirm on the other side of the desk. He still didn't know what this is about, and as time passed, he was becoming less and less sure. Grunkle Stan didn’t _do_ this level of serious, unless something was really, really wrong. Normally, it was the shouting kind of worry.

"Uh, yes?" he offered, hoping that it will bring about some clarification. Stan nodded, but didn't look convinced.

"I mean it, Dipper," and he's started to use that tone of voice, the one that is so chock full of sincerity, the one he only uses with his family in the direst of moments. "If you were in any kind of trouble, I'd have your back in a heartbeat."

"Grunkle Stan, what are you talking about?" Dipper's mind started to race, moving out of the relaxed mode he'd been enjoying earlier, and back to his normal, more alert (more paranoid) state. Had something happened that he wasn't aware of? It didn't seem like he'd done something wrong, but maybe...

Shit, had Stan found out about the Wendy incident? They'd talked about the first time it had happened, but Dipper had never really fessed up to the more recent Halloween episode - was Stan going to chew him out for that?

But, he didn't really seem to be angry... just worried.

Like, very worried.

"Dipper..." Stan hesitated. Dipper could almost see him picking his words, deliberating over their choice and delivery. "If... let's say there were an accident, a tourist or someone who saw something they shouldn’t have, or a hiker that wandered off and got hurt or... killed..." He dragged the last word out with distaste, like he wanted to spit it out but it stuck to his tongue. “You know you could come to me if you needed help with something like that, right?”

“That’s… why we have McGucket with his memory gun, Grunkle Stan. And Ford and I have arrangements with most of the things in the woods, so I’m _pretty_ sure we’re good on the, people not dying front… where are you going with this?”

Grunkle Stan frowned, plucking a card from his desk. “Dipper, I found this on the floor the other day, and I need you to explain why you had it.”

Silently, Dipper reached out to take the paper, looking over it with an apprehension that faded quickly into confusion. On one side was his handwriting - a notice reminding him to call the contact on the front, and a reminder of who it was. On the front, in fading ink, read “Jeremy and Co. - WetWorks and Disposal.”

“This is Jeremy’s business card,” he said, looking back up at Grunkle Stan. “That wendigo I told you all about? Right before Christmas?”

Grunkle Stan grimaced, lips pursing as if Dipper had confirmed something for him. “I remember. Dipper, do you need help hiding a body?”

A flabbergasted silence filled the room.

“I - do I - _what?_ ” Dipper stared, slack-jawed and incredulous at his great-uncle, who was staring him down with glowing yellow eyes. “I - Grunkle Stan, why would I have a _body_?”

“Dipper, you have a card that says “Wetworks and Disposal” from a creature that eats human flesh,” Grunkle Stan deadpanned as if it were obvious, leaning forward in his chair. “We live in a town where there are giant magical bears, fire-breathing cops, testosterone-fueled bull people, and generally a lot of dangerous things. And you’re one of the people in charge of making sure chumps from outside the town don’t find out about it. Now, if you someone stuck their nose where it didn’t belong, and there was an _accident_ \- these things happen. But it’s important to take care of it sooner rather than later, and - no offense to your wendigo buddy - the fewer people who know, the better. I can help you out, but I need you to be honest with me - do you need help hiding a body?”

Wow. There was… a _lot_ to unpack about his Grunkle Stan, starting with the fact that he apparently thought Dipper had accidentally murdered someone, and was 100% willing to help him hide the body. “Grunkle Stan - Okay, first off, I don’t have a body to hide. No one’s dead, so far as I know, and there’s not any risk of someone finding out about Gravity Falls. I don’t really know how you got that idea from this,” and he waved the card, “but no! I don’t need to hide a body. Second, _why_ _did you think this?_ ”

His Grunkle blinked in surprise at that, the yellow glow fading from his eyes. “You… actually don’t have a body. Well, uh… that’s good to hear.” He blinked again. “But… you’re prepared for one?”

“ _No_!”

“Then…” Grunkle Stan’s gaze flickered to the card, then back to Dipper. “…why do you have a wetworks business card?”

“Jeremy gave it to me so I could contact him when we found the _Fluventis_ , to see if it would change them back! It just happens to also be his business card for his job.” He’d actually been doing a fair bit of research for the wendigo the past two weeks. Nothing worth calling him for yet, but he was hopeful that the Fluventis would be able to circumvent their curse. His Grunkle’s assumption, though, that he would call them up and ask them to get rid of a body, just because they were wendigos, made his stomach churn. “I wasn’t going to call him up and ask him to eat someone or anything.”

Grunkle Stan furrowed his brow, thinking for a long moment. Something seemed to click, and he looked back to Dipper. “Do you know what “wet work” is, Dipper?”

The cervitaur frowned. “Plumbing or construction, right? I meant to look it up, but I’ve been kind of busy with other things. Why?”

The gargoyle’s expression had shifted from one of worry and confusion to one of heavily suppressed embarrassment. “Uh. No reason.” Dipper didn’t need gargoyle eyes to see through that lie, but Grunkle Stan stood up before he could press the issue. “Alright, so… you’re good. No body to hide, nothing to worry about, right? Okay. Great.” He started shepherding him out the office door. “I’ll let you get back to whatever you were doing before, just uh… maybe don’t leave that card lying around. Just in case.”

“In case of _what_?” Dipper asked, but Grunkle Stan was already walking towards the back porch.

“Don’t worry about it. Now, I’ve got to, uh… put some gardening tools away.” And he disappeared around the corner, leaving Dipper, baffled, standing outside his office, with a new and unsettling desire to look up the definition of “wetwork.”

**Author's Note:**

> The first thing I post in two months. Feels Good. Gotta get back into the swing, it's been so long since I've written, and even longer for this fandom and AU. Woof.
> 
> Once May 15 rolls around, I'll either have a Masters Degree in Psychological Science, or I'll be out of time and money. Either way, I'll be getting back into a schedule for writing, and we should see the end of TDaC before Christmas. Fo realz this time.
> 
> I don't know how many of you will read this one in particular, but I love you all who have commented and bingeread and bookmarked and kudo'd and kept tabs on this AU - I haven't forgotten, you'll see an ending yet, and it means the world to me to hear you're enjoying the story.
> 
> Yall can cheer me on for thesis or yell headcanons at me @mercHomophony on Twitterrrrr


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